


Books

by figjam_fics



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 05:41:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3435557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figjam_fics/pseuds/figjam_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nasser recalls how it all began, 15 years ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Books

**Author's Note:**

> Written June 2013.

Nasser let himself be led by the estate agent, trying to picture how the furniture would look in each of the rooms.  
  
Would the couches really fit in here? Would Michael mind if it was an electric fire and not a real one? Was it worth worrying about the fire when it was a good-sized kitchen and a bigger master bedroom than they were used to? And with spare bedrooms too.  
  
He considered, and not for the first time, whether it was a good idea to try and find them a house all by himself. He thought back to their cosy flat in London which they’d had both found together. Maybe he should have involved Michael in this?  
  
The truth was, their flat was becoming unliveable. Even ignoring the fact that the heating broke every winter and that the hot water had a tendency to turn to ice in a matter of seconds, it was getting too small. Bookcases lined every single wall now, completely packed full of books. Nasser read occasionally, but Michael always had his head in a book when he wasn’t writing.  
  
While Nasser liked to sit down in front of a good drama on the television, Michael would be sat reading, not even lifting his head when Nasser called his name to ask if he wanted a cup of tea.  
  
Maybe Mike should be involved in the decision, Nasser thought as he peered into a bathroom. But then he remembered when they’d looked for the flat and within five minutes of being in the first place they’d looked at Michael had said it was fine.  
  
Nasser had raised his eyebrows as he stared at a long crack in the wall and the mould on the ceiling. It had only been through Nasser’s constant pushing that they even looked at a second place. And that one they had settled on.  
  
But they were not settling this time, no sir. This was the fifth place Nasser had looked at and he wasn’t going to stop until he’d found the perfect house. They had been together 15 years, and Nasser wanted to do something special. Finding somewhere it would be more difficult to fill with books had been a logical decision. He smiled slightly, thinking back to 15 years ago.

 

* * *

  
Nasser knocked on the door, book in hand. He’d just finished it, and knew Michael would have a whole lot more he could borrow. He thought he heard a noise behind the door, but not certain, he knocked again.  
  
“Yep!”  
  
Nasser walked in, expecting to see Michael reading. Instead he was on the bed, curled into a ball with a grimace on his face. Michael only glanced up at him before swearing under his breath.  
  
“Are you okay?” Nasser asked, sitting down on the bed.  
  
“Back,” Michael muttered.  
  
“Have you had painkillers?”  
  
Michael pointed towards the box on the side.  
  
“Do you want me to get a physio or someone?”  
  
“No,” Michael replied. “I don’t really want anyone to know.”  
  
Nasser frowned and set the book down. "Well... is there anything I can do?”  
  
“Hot water bottle... shit!” Michael grimaced again, twisting his body to try and get into a more comfortable position.  
  
Nasser spotted the hot water bottle on the floor down the side of the bed and immediately filled the kettle up. He watched Michael for a few moments. He had his eyes tightly closed, lines etched into his forehead, his hands clenched. Nasser knew Michael had been having troubles with his back for a while, but he had no idea it could be this bad.  
  
Before the water started boiling, he topped up the hot water bottle and walked over to the bed.  
  
“Do you want me to hold it against your back?” Nasser asked.  
  
Michael nodded and pointed to where he should put it. Nasser sat down on the bed, surprised when Michael moved his head to rest in his lap. Nasser held the water bottle to Michael’s back and felt him relax a little.  
  
Nasser jolted when he felt Michael sit up. It took him a few moments to realise he had been asleep. Michael was sitting up taking a few more painkillers. “How long have I been sleeping?” Nasser asked groggily.  
  
“About an hour,” Michael said. “We were both asleep. I feel a bit better though, I haven’t had much sleep the last few nights.”  
  
Nasser took that moment to look at him properly. It was true that his captain looked exhausted. Michael sat up and rested his head against Nasser’s chest. Before he even realised he was doing it, Nasser had his arms wrapped around his captain and was stroking his shoulder.  
  
It was at that moment that Nasser wasn’t quite sure what to do. If he stopped stroking, Michael would surely notice. But if he carried on, it seemed a little less friendly and a bit too affectionate. But Michael seemed quite content to sit there and began asking Nasser what he thought of the book.  
  
They stayed like that for a while, discussing it and working out what Nasser might like to read next. Did he like thrillers? Did he want to read a non-fiction book, because Michael had a few of those. Nasser pulled a face at the thought about reading 500 pages on a volcano that erupted thousands of years ago.  
  
Eventually Michael asked if they wanted to order some food, and Nasser rang for room service.  
  
They stayed up eating and talking for a few hours before Michael started rubbing his back again.  
  
“Are you okay?” Nasser asked.  
  
“I’m not great, but I’ll see someone about it tomorrow. Probably need an injection, that usually keeps it in check for a few days.”  
  
“A few days?”  
  
“Yeah. A few days.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Michael.”  
  
“It’s okay. It’s a hereditary condition. I’m getting used to it.”  
  
Nasser nodded, not entirely sure what to say. He glanced around the room, suddenly feeling awkward. Just as he was about to get up and say he was going to bed, Michael spoke.  
  
“Do you want to stay?”  
  
“Stay?” Nasser replied, confused.  
  
“Do you want to stay the night?”  
  
Nasser hesitated, not sure what exactly his captain meant by that. He’d heard the rumours, of course. The ones about Michael and Alec spending more time together than anyone else did. And then suddenly they weren’t even talking anymore...  
  
But Nasser wasn’t sure that was something he wanted to get involved in.  
  
“Sure,” Nasser said before his brain had even fully comprehended what Michael meant. Realising he would look odd if he suddenly changed his mind and said no, he slipped under the covers.  
  
Michael watching him, smiling a little. “You’re going to go to sleep in your clothes?”  
  
Nasser frowned slightly and pulled his tracksuit bottoms off, wriggling under the covers so Michael wouldn’t see him in his underwear.  
  
Lying in his shorts and t-shirt, Nasser watched as Michael gingerly got up to turn the light off. Nasser heard the sounds of Michael removing his clothes and putting some pyjama trousers on before slipping into bed beside him.  
  
“Night, Nass.”  
  
“Night, Michael. Tell me if your back hurts.  
  
“I will do, thank you.”  
  
They slept like that for a week. The few occasions a foot had touched a leg or a stretched arm had hit a chest, the limbs had been hastily pulled away as though the contact had resulted in an electric shock.  
  
They never talked about it, and it had just become a natural thing for them to do without thinking. And when Nasser had been out late talking to Phil, only to knock on Michael’s door at midnight and Michael to hand him a spare room key, it didn’t seem strange.  
  
But they didn’t discuss what it meant.  
  
It was a few nights later when they won a match. It had been, as per tradition, the last match in a series that had already been decided. But they were celebrating anyway. It meant they got to go back to England, back to roast dinners and bacon sandwiches and pints of good beer. And it meant that the series had ended on a high so they could fill the papers with clichés on how they were on the up, and this proved they could win so they would draw from their experiences.  
  
Michael was sat alone in the corner of the dressing room watching his players drinking and chatting when Nasser sat down next to him.  
  
“Good to end on a high,” Nasser said.  
  
“Yeah, it is. It’s hard to be too ecstatic when you remember the rest of the results though.”  
  
“I’m trying not to think about it,” Nasser admitted. “How’s your back feeling? You looked good out there today.”  
  
As soon as the words were out of his mouth he wished he could take them back. He’d meant Michael’s batting looked good but after the amount of time they had been spending together lately he didn’t want it to be taken the wrong way...  
  
“I felt in good touch too,” Michael said. “It’s not hurting too much. I’m ready for bed though. I don’t see that there’s much to celebrate really.”  
  
“I’ll go back with you.”  
  
“You don’t have to.”  
  
“I want to.”  
  
They left five minutes apart, not really sure why they made an effort to leave separately. Nasser slid into the taxi next to Michael and watched out of the window as they drove back to the hotel.  
  
They walked in silence to Michael’s room until they stepped inside and Michael asked if they should share a bottle of wine. Nasser nodded and let Michael ask for one through room service.  
  
Nasser got onto the bed they’d been sharing for the last few days and looked around the room they wouldn’t be in again. He didn’t know what was happening between them and didn’t know how to come out with it and ask.  
  
They shared the bottle of wine and talked about cricket. They talked about the series just finished, the series coming up next. They talked about the injuries the bowlers had sustained and talked about fitness and sponsorships and playing for their counties. They talked about books. They always ended up talking about books. Or rather, Michael did and Nasser listened.  
  
Michael reached over to the table and handed Nasser a new book. “I just finished this, and I reckon you would like it too.”  
  
As Nasser took it, his fingers touched Michael’s. This time neither of them flinched. Maybe it was the beers and then the wine but before they knew what was happening, their lips had met and Nasser was dropping the book down beside the bed.  
  
It surprised Nasser how easy it felt to run his fingers through Michael’s hair, and that his firm body wasn’t as much of a turn-off as he might have expected it to be. He let Michael take control of the pace, their kisses deepening as Michael’s fingers found their way under Nasser’s shirt. He shuddered and felt a lot like running away at that moment, when the reality of what was happening hit him properly.  
  
But he let Michael remove his shirt, then his jeans before he said anything. “Michael... I don’t know what to do.”  
  
Aloud, it sounded embarrassing, but Michael didn’t laugh or look despairing. Instead, he took his own clothes off and rolled onto his front before handing the lube to Nasser.  
  
“I’ve done this before, don’t worry,” Michael said. “I’ll talk you through it.”  
  
Nasser took a moment to study the man lying naked before him. He needed to eat something, was Nasser’s main thought as he coated his fingers in the lubricant.  
  
But he wasn’t unattractive. And thinking about Michael in a way he never had before, he could accept that there was something fairly good looking about him. In a posh-boy with his head always stuck in a book kind of way.  
  
As he eased a hesitant finger into the Lancastrians’s body he thought Michael might just turn around and push him off. But he didn’t. If anything he seemed to relax, pushing back against Nasser’s finger, breathing deeply.  
  
Michael looked over his shoulder, and Nasser blushed slightly. “You don’t need to be so gentle,” Michael said quietly. “I know my back’s a bit broken, but I’m not that delicate.”  
  
Nasser blushed more, but obliged, pressing in a second finger and suddenly wondering how on earth he was going to get his cock in there. If indeed, that was the aim. Maybe this was all Michael wanted?  
  
He realised his hand was shaking, and felt his whole body trembling.  
  
In fact, if the idea was to get his cock in there he wasn’t entirely sure they’d have much luck, because at this rate the fear was going to prevent him from performing and that would be even more embarrassing. He realised if that happened, he would probably never be able to look Michael in the eye again. Having sex with a team mate was a really bad idea he thought, but it was almost too late to back out now.  
  
Michael told him to remove his fingers and he rolled over, pulling Nasser towards him. “Kiss me.”  
  
Nasser leant down, pressing his fingers lightly against Michael’s and gasped as a warm hand found its way inside his boxers and wrapped around his cock.  
  
“You’re going to feel amazing,” Michael murmured against Nasser’s lips. “I promise.”  
  
Michael pushed Nasser’s boxers off, taking his time to have a closer look at the body in front of him. Michael covered his own fingers in lube before wrapping his hand around Nasser’s cock again.  
  
He pulled Nasser down for a kiss, guiding him into position and gently whispering “please”. The sound of Michael’s quiet begging was almost enough to make Nasser lose control, and as he thrust into his captain’s body he thought that sex had never felt like this before.

It was at that moment he thought he was never going to want to stop being with this man.

 

* * *

  
It had taken two months of travelling between their London flat and the new house, trying to ignore Michael’s gentle nagging to find out where he was going, and making sure he didn’t come back with paint on his jeans or in his hair.  
  
The house was the hardest secret he had ever kept.  
  
But as they drove up to the front door, he knew the sneaking around was going to be worth it. He led Michael into the newly decorated house, guiding him into every room, watching Michael’s stunned expression as he took everything in. Lastly, Nasser guided him into Michael’s new study, with floor to ceiling bookcases ready to be filled.  
  
“This is ours?” Michael asked, looking around in amazement. “You did this?”  
  
“Do you like it?”  
  
“This is perfect,” Michael said, running his fingers along the dark wood antique desk.  
  
He looked at one of the bookcases, the one Nasser had filled with books he knew his partner had never read before. He watched as Michael took his time to assess the spines of each one, before taking a book out.  
  
He gave Nasser a chaste kiss on the lips, told him he loved him before carrying the book through to the living room. Nasser sat on the sofa, watching the television and rubbing Michael’s feet while Michael sat with his head in the book.  
  
And as he’d realised 15 years ago, he smiled to himself when it reoccurred to him that Michael was the only home he’d ever need.


End file.
